The words were spoken; and in speaking them perhaps Bertie came nearer to what is called a hero than ever in all his life before. But their effect upon the captain was not agreeable. Those who play at bowls must expect rubbers, and those who insist upon receiving an answer which they know can scarcely be agreeable should make the best of it when it comes. But the captain did not seem to see it. Directly he had spoken Bertie saw that he had put his foot in it. Instinctively he slipped his hands between the rails of the seat and held on tight. Only just in time, for the captain, stooping forward, tried to lift him in his arms. "Leave go, you young brute!" Bertie did leave go, but only to throw his arms about the captain's neck. Instantly the captain stood up straight, holding Bertie in his arms, staggering beneath his weight, for the convulsive clutch of the lad's arms about his neck encumbered him. "If you don't take your arms away I'll kill you!" But Bertie only clutched the tighter. "Let me go! let me go!" he screamed with the full strength of his lungs. The effect was startling. In the prevailing silence the boy's voice was heard far out across the sea. Taken aback by such a show of resistance where none had before been offered, the captain promptly replaced the lad upon the seat. "What's the matter with you? It was only a joke." Bertie unclasped his arms. The expression of his face showed that it had been no joke to him. He looked like one who was not even yet quite sure that he had escaped from death. The man at the helm was unable to see the seat on which they sat. The forward watch had been on the other side the ship. This man now advanced. "What's the matter there?" The captain met him with his most placid air. "Did you hear my nephew's voice? He had no idea he spoke so loud; he was forgetting where we were." The man advanced still closer. "What's the matter with you, boy?" Quite unconsciously the captain unbuttoned his overcoat, and his hand strayed to the pocket at the top. "No--nothing," stammered Bertie. "Nothing! I don't know what you call nothing! I should think you was being murdered, hollering out like that. Why don't you go down to the cabin and go to sleep?" The captain drew the man aside. "My nephew is a little excitable at times," he said, and tapped his forehead. "He is best away from the cabin. He is better alone up here in the fresh air with me." The man, a weather-beaten sailor, with an unkempt grey beard, looked him straight in the face. "Do you mean he's cracked?" "Well, we don't call it by that name. He's excitable--not quite himself at times. You had better pay no heed to him; he has one of his fits on him to-night--the journey has excited him." "Poor young feller!" And the sailor turned to look at the boy. The captain slipped something into his hand. The man touched his hat and went away, looking at the piece of money as he went. And the man and the boy were left alone again.